


Cheating the System

by techbilt



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: M/M, Major Character Injury, Other, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-31 01:12:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6449548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/techbilt/pseuds/techbilt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prowl does something he knows is wrong and he could get court martialed for it, but he can't bring himself to care.  All he wants is to be happy, and he made him happy since the walls of Praxus fell.  Some rules were meant to be broken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Road to Recovery

Prowl had never wanted to be a part of this war.  He had attempted to stay out of its way until it had come knocking on his door.  He had been in Praxus when it fell.  He heard the bombs drown out the screams of panic and fear from his Praxian brothers.  He remembers the building that he had once called home come crashing to the ground with him still in it.  He has nightmares about the never being found under the rubble, the last gasps of one of his neighbors.  The screaming cries of seeker engines as they flew overhead, no doubt laughing as they looked upon the destruction they had caused on to the Neutral city.

Prowls HUD alerted him of several injuries, his sensory array screaming at him.  His door wings were crushed and the pain was nauseating.  Prowl was certain if he lost consciousness he would purge.  Prowl saw a greying hand, sticking out from the little bubble that had fallen around him.  It was just barely structurally holding itself up and stopping it from falling.  For the first time in a long time Prowl was scared.  He was going to die here; a casualty of a war he didn’t want to be a part of.  A number for some strategist to use as a pat on the back for Megatron. 

Prowl groaned opening his mouth to speak only to gag then purge.  The damage was much more severe than his HUD was letting on.  He was pretty sure he was going into shock, having his door wings crushed in such a way should have sent him off line.  They were full of sensors, used for collecting data on the environment as well as balance his frame.  Prowl was pretty sure the shock was the only thing keeping him from going into stasis from pain.

His HUD informed him of just how much energon he had lost, 15% and still losing it. 

cout >> ⚠ SYSTEM SHUT DOWN: 10

He wondered if there would be any rescue for any survivors. 

cout >> ⚠ SYSTEM SHUT DOWN: 9

Would there even be survivors?

cout >> ⚠ SYSTEM SHUT DOWN: 8

He began feeling cold, his helm hurt.  The walls of this ‘safe’ space began to blur in and out of focus.

cout >> ⚠ SYSTEM SHUT DOWN: 7

Prowl tried to keep himself from going into stasis.

cout >> ⚠ SYSTEM SHUT DOWN: 6  
         >> ⚠ ERROR: ENERGON LOSS 17%  
         >> Force Emergency shut down: Y / N

 cin  << N

Prowl whined, everything was starting to throb, and he could no longer focus.

Would he survive long enough to be rescued?

cout >> ⚠ ERROR: Energon too low  
         >> shutdown –s

.: ■ :.

He doesn’t know what is going on, he hears humming, beeping that steadily gets louder the more aware he becomes.  His entire frame aches all the way to the core of his struts.  He’s exhausted despite having a full night of recharge.  In fact that beeping is probably his alarm, alerting him that he over slept.  Usually he was up and ready by the time it went off. All he needed to do was roll over and turn it off right?

His arm felt heavy, his helm felt heavy, his everything felt heavy.  With every subtle motion his entire frame throbbed.  He tried to online his optics the light was too strong and he hissed trying again before giving up and leaving them off line.

“Hey!  Doc-bot!  That Praxian is awake!”  yelled a strong voice.  Primus, it hurt his head to listen to him yell across the room.  The Praxian wasn’t aware he had made any noises.  His helm was swimming in static.  He could hear everything from the hum of the lights above him to the white noise.  He tried to focus long enough to figure out who was in his home.  He didn’t remember bringing any one home last night, let alone two people.  Maybe he went home with them?

Two sets of peds stomped into the room he was in.  “Ironhide turn off the lights!  Now!” ordered one of them.  Prowl tried to online his optics once more.  With the lights off it was at least bearable to see.  He tried to get a good look at who ever was in front of him but static filled his vision.  He could see red and white, and another red figure behind the red and white one.

“Prime wanted to know when he came online, go notify him,” stated the red and white.  The red figure moved out of the room probably running.  Prowl attempted to reboot his optics, trying to get a clearer picture of where he was.  At least the beeping had gone down in volume.

He attempted to reach out for the mechs arm, or what he thought was his arm.  “Where am I?”

His vocalizer must not have been working too well the mech seemed to take a while to understand what he had asked.  “My name is Ratchet,” he stated as he started prodding his frame and seams.  He touched a rather sensitive part of his frame and Prowl hissed.  He had never been sensitive there before.  “You are currently in an Autobot Medical facility.  Do you remember your name?”

Prowl waited for his processor to catch up to what Ratchet was saying.  He had never had his processor run this slow.  It felt wrong, the data was moving much too slowly and not nearly enough was being imported from his sensors.  “Autobot?” asked Prowl.  There were no Autobot or Decepticon facilities on Praxian land.  Prowls head bobbed as his Processor looped around why he was here. 

“Stay with me kid,” stated Ratchet using a light pen to test his optics.  Prowl winced, as Ratchet moved the light pen around once more.  “What is your name?”

Prowl moaned, attempting to sit up, it made his whole body throb.  A heavy hand rested over his chest plate, holding down.  It was oddly comforting to have a touch that wasn’t searing hot pain.  “Prowl.”

“Well, Prowl,” started Ratchet.  “When we found you you were bleeding out.  You had lost 30% of your energon.  Some soldiers had been able to make some field welds and get you to my medical facility.  You’re lucky we got to you in time.”

“Am I in Praxus?  What happened?”  Prowl felt like a building had been dropped on him.  All he wanted were answers.

“You are not in Praxus.  You’re in Los Alamos, just a few miles north of Praxus,” answer Ratchet.  He didn’t know how much he should divulge.  He didn’t want to set back his recuperation time, but he didn’t want Prowl to find out on his own either.  Both could have disastrous effects on his health.  Ratchets strong suit had never been berth side manner, he had always been batter at getting answers and diagnosing patients than comforting them.

“We found you under a building that had been hit by an air raid,” started Ratchet.  “The Decepticons destroyed Praxus, there were only two known survivors.  You and another younger mech, Bluestreak I believe his name is.”

“Praxus is gone?” he asked.  His home, the neutral city was gone. They had tried their hardest to stay out of the war, to stay away from the deaths the civil war would cause.  Though the city had sided with the Decepticons on most political points Prowl couldn’t forgive them.  Not after this.  This was unforgivable.

“Praxus is lost,” sated Ratchet.  He maneuvered a grey item in what Prowl assumed was his hands.  It was probably a Data pad.  Ratchet waited allowing Prowl a moment of silence for his fallen brothers.

The doctor fidgeted enough to be noticeable by Prowls malfunctioning visual cortex.  “Prowl I need to take some time to talk about your next steps medically.  Your visual Cortex is having some trouble coming fully online.  Your left Optic was punctured, a new one is waiting for when we get to Iacon.  Your Left Door wing was destroyed, so I had to remove it.  I have you on strong pain killers, it should take most of the pain away.”

Prowl could only take his word for it, his entire body seemed to be in a tremendous amount of pain even on pain killers.  Which if his door wing was gone, that was likely the truth.  This was a very mute version of the pain he should be feeling.  

Ratchet went silent letting everything sink in.  “For you to heal properly I’m going to put you into a medical stasis.  The next time you wake up you will be in Iacon.”

“Yea,” stated Prowl more of a way to say he understood than an agreement.  At least in stasis he wouldn’t be able to feel this mind numbing pain. 

Ratchet stood, probably messing with some machine.  “Alright I need you to count backwards from 10.”

Prowl looked at the red and white figure, hesitant but he would do it. “10…”

The medic fiddled with some lines, he could feel the needle in his arm move slightly.

“9”

He could feel his frame getting heavier, the effects of the stasis lulling him into recharge.

“8”

Prowl would have yawned had it not hurt so much just to count.  Imagine opening his jaw more?

“7”

At this point he was struggling to get through the count down.  He was so damn tired; did he really have to count down the whole way?  He wasn’t going to be able to make it to one.

“6…”

He finally gave in he succumbed to the embrace of recharge.  All the pain of his battered frame a long forgotten Memory.

.: ■ :.

Ratchet glanced to the Praxian he had just put under.  He would heal better in stasis, a few moments of disorientation let know he was safe, alive, and most importantly getting medical attention.   Though the medic doubted that Prowl would remember any of their conversation.  He had been maxed out on pain killer, probably high as a kite, and still in pain.  Crushed wings were an awful thing to experience.

He had sent Ironhide to fetch Optimus Several minutes ago.  It shouldn’t take that long for them to get here.  It didn’t really matter anymore now.  Ratchet had put him in stasis after letting him know what happened.  Optimus no doubt wanted to let him know that he was being taken care of.

Ratchet took some note and updated that status of the patient with the encrypted data pad at the end of the medical slab.  He turned when the door opened to reveal Ironhide and the Prime.

“I put our guest into medical stasis,” stated Ratchet putting the data pad back. 

“How is he?” asked the Prime.  Bluestreak the other survivor barely had a scratch on him.  All of his trauma was psychological, and Rung was working with him diligently to make sure he was okay.  He had decided to join with the Autobots.

“Well, his wing is crushed, and I don’t have the materials here to fix it.  First Aid is making him a new optic back in Iacon, as soon as we have him transported to Iacon his optic will be replaced.  Though it might turn out to be a different shade of Blue.” Optics were hard to replace.  Rarely did the optic colors match if someone lost their optics.  The optic would work; it would just be slightly off color.

“Even maxed out on drugs he was in a considerable amount of pain but that is pretty normal for a Praxian who just got their wing crushed,” stated Ratchet as he glanced back to the recharging form of Prowl.  “I put him back into stasis so he could actually heal.  Once I replicate his wing and attach it I will bring him back on line.  After that he has a long road of recovery ahead.”

It would take several months or rehab to get his sense of balance adjusted to the new door wing.  He would have to relearn how to walk, to stand, run.  Would the Autobots even had the resources to assist him?  Sure for one of their soldiers, but Prowl was in aligned.  He didn’t have a side.  And while they wanted very much to be able to help one of the Praxian survivors they just didn’t have the money. 

“Keep repairing him Ratchet,” stated Optimus.  If they helped him enough he might choose to stay on their side, if not it was good PR with Neutrals.  “We leave for Iacon in 72 hours.  Make sure he ready for medical transport.”

“Yes sir!” stated Ratchet as the Prime and his body guard left the makeshift medical bay.


	2. gone, gone, gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl wakes up and finds out what happened to Praxus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was late, I dropped my flash drives in a puddle and had to let them dry completely before working on the story.

Ratchet stared at the group of soldiers who gather around their cargo ship.  They had just landed from their rescue mission in Praxus and already the two Praxian survivors were superstars.  Bluestreak sat underneath a storage blanket, while Ratchet had just covered Prowl up on the medical berth.  Ratchet turned to the Prime, “I thought we were going to have a clear path.”

Prowl hummed, he was just as unpleased with the turn out as Ratchet.  “I will Comm Magnus and Jazz to find out what is going on.”

Ratchet stood in front of his patient, trying to shield him from the on-lookers.  Another of the soldiers that had been there to help assist in the rescue efforts stood in front of Bluestreak keeping him from prying optics.  Prime stepped off the cargo ramp and toward the group of Autobots, Ironhide right next to him.

The Prime spoke to the large group of bots, most of them turned away, walking to their quarters, the breakroom, or their station.  Most of them looked disappointed in finding out they couldn’t look at the new arrivals.  Praxus had been a low blow.  The Autobot moral was at an all-time low with this last Decepticon raid on Praxus. 

Soon Optimus waved to Ratchet as finally the last afthole left the loading dock.  “It should be okay now Ratchet.  Jazz and Mirage are going to clear a path to medical for us.”

Ratchet nodded, wheeling Prowls medical slab down the ramp and toward the doors.  “Ironhide help Bluestreak.”

The red mech nodded going to assist Bluestreak under the cargo blanket.  It would be better to introduce both Praxians when they were in a better mental and physical condition. It would be a while before either Praxian was ready for visitors.

The walk to medical was rather silent, Ratchet was thankful.  It meant that Mirage and Jazz were doing a decent job at keeping the nosey bots away.  The awkward silence of peds tapping on the hard steel ground of the base was a welcome sound to Ratchet. 

“Put them in the ICU,” stated the medic.  Ironhide helped lead Bluestreak through the medical bay to the ICU.  Bluestreak wasn’t in critical condition but it would grant him a little time to adjust.  Time to process what had happened to his home.  For Ratchet to help him figure out what to do.

Prowl was in critical condition, he had severe door-wing injuries that Ratchet couldn’t in good conscious bring him to again.   Prowl had been so out of it when he had last been brought back online.  Ratchet likely wouldn’t bring him back online until his door-wing had been replaced.  It would be much easier on his systems than trying to flood the area with pings because his systems didn’t register anything there.

Bluestreak hopped onto an ICU berth as Ratchet rolled Prowl into his spot.  He hooked up the spark monitors and replaced the IV bag.

“SO how long until you finish his door-wing?” asked Bluestreak wrapping the blanket tighter around him. 

“It shouldn’t take too long for me to get one ready for him,” stated Ratchet.  He didn’t want to worry the other Praxian too much.  The medic tried to stay as vague as possible.  The medic turned to Bluestreak trying his hardest to use that berth-side manner that a medic was supposed to have.  “Will you do me a favor and keep him company, while I go finish his parts?”

Bluestreak nodded glancing to the half crushed Praxian.  He was a little disturbing to look at.  A part of the younger Praxian told him this mech shouldn’t be alive.  A building had fallen on half of him.  He turned to watch Ratchet leave out the ICU doors.  Bluestreak just stared at the Praxian in stasis.  The younger so thankful it wasn’t him on the slab half offline.

.: ■ :.

A week had passed before they had finally gotten Bluestreak out onto the base.  The younger Praxian had decided to join the Autobots.  Training with Ironhide and keeping his own on the shoot range.  Optimus had stopped by a few times in the last week to see how their Praxian survivor was fairing. 

It was a week and a half after the transfer to Iacon before Ratchet had been able to install the replacement optic.  It was a week and a half later before Prowls Door-wing had been completed.  Ratchet had been in the OR for several pain staking hours reattaching the damned limb.  Wire by wire, sensor by sensor.

“First Aid,” stated Ratchet as he wheeled the now completed Praxian out of the OR and back into the ICU.  “Watch him until after I’ve returned.  I will bring him out of stasis when I get back.  Call me if something goes wrong.”

The nurse nodded, going back to typing up a report.  Prowls door-wing needed time to integrate with the plating he already had.  Prowl was going to wake sore and lost, Ratchet needed recharge to be at the top of his game.  There was no telling how the Praxian would react when they brought him out of stasis.

Ratchet had left to get caught up on recharge after the long surgery on the Praxian.  A few more hours of him being is stasis wouldn’t hurt him. 

.: ■ :.

He came to, but he wasn’t quite sure when.  He feels nothing then a dull pain.  His HUD is slow to boot up.  His system is sluggish in general.

Cout >> ⚠ WARNING: New hardware….  
                Scanning…..  
                Optical part Lo-o – Uninstalled – Medic code: Ratchet

                Door part LA03 – Uninstalled – Medic code: Ratchet

                Optic new… Lo-1 – Hardware ID Compatibility issue

                Door new… LD46 – Integrated successfully.

Prow groaned, trying to wake up faster.  He had work to do; he couldn’t stay here all day.  Prowl attempted to get up as his systems were still booting. He felt a heavy hand on his chest plate pushing him back down on to the slab underneath him.   

“Stay down kid.  Let your system boot up properly before you do anything drastic,” stated the voice.  “Besides you aren’t going to get very far without help.”

Prowl had no choice but to obey.  And what was that supposed to mean?  His HUD soon came completely online.  Then his visual center started booting, slowly as it got used to the new hardware.

“Do you remember your name and function?” asked the voice from before.

“Prowl, Law officer of Praxis division 21,” stated Prowl.

“Do you know where you are?” asked the voice again.  Things were becoming clearer.  He could see outlines and major shapes. 

“Praxis?” asked Prowl more than stated.  Prowl had never left the city before.  He had no plans on leaving the city either. 

He could hear the other mech grunt or sigh, the officer wasn’t too sure which it was officially.  He stared at the blob he thought was the medic as his visual cortex cleared up.  There was static with colors now.  Was he in a medical facility?  Had he been shot?  Where in Praxis was he?

He looked around the room, “Was I shot?” It must have been pretty bad from what his HUD was telling him.  A new door and a new optic, those must have been some guns.

“Not exactly,” stated the medic. The medic took a large intake, most likely getting ready to explain as much as he could.  “My name is Ratchet; I am the Chief Medical Officer of this Autobot base- “

“What?” interrupted Prowl.  “What are you doing here?  Praxis is a Neutral city! You viol- “

“Let me finish kid,” stated Ratchet.  “The Decepticons raided the city, we found only two survivors:  you and Bluestreak.”

“Praxis is gone?” stated Prowl more than asked.  The officer pulled his legs up to his chest resting his helm on his knees.  What was he supposed to do now?  He had only ever served one function; he didn’t want to be anywhere near this war.

Ratchet only nodded, he wasn’t sure how to comfort the Praxian.  He had lost everything, had to re-learn how to do basic functions.   Prowl would have to start over in almost every aspect of his life. The medic remained quite for several minutes allowing the Praxian to grieve.

Several awkward minutes passed before Prowl spoke.  “What happened to me?” he asked, the throbbing aches were starting to come back

“We found you underneath a building,” stated the medic.  “You had passed out from major energon loss.  He we not gotten to you when we did you would have bled out in a couple more hours.”

Prowl takes in that information, suddenly grateful that the Autobots had found him.  He relaxes a little, his new wing feels different, heavier.

Ratchet can see Prowl is fidgeting with his new appendage.  “You have a long road ahead of you.  You’ll need several months of physical therapy in order to return to optimal function.”

Prowl nodded from his place on the berth, his mood darkened.  His door-wings drooped depressingly.  He didn’t want to be stuck here.  Prowl systems were all still calibrating, running their diagnostics trying to figure out what day it was, the time. 

“How do you feel physically?” asked Ratchet.  “Does anything hurt?”

“No I feel okay,” stated Prowl.  “My chronometer says I was only out for a day.”

“Your Chronometer must not be able to compensate for extreme energon loss you suffered,” stated Ratchet.  “I’ll adjust it for you.”  The medic hooked up to Prowls medical port and adjusted the day and time appropriately.

“28 days?” questioned Prowl.  He had been in stasis for that long?  Prowl rubbed his face with his servo.  This whole thing was frustrating.  He had nowhere to go back to now, home was gone.  Whatever family he had was gone.  And here he was in the capable hands of the Autobots on a side of a war he never wanted to be on.  Till now.

Ratchet looked toward the ICU doors before turning back to his patient.  “The Prime would like to talk to you, do you think you can handle visitors?”

Prowl looked up to the medic. The medic made it sound like he had a choice.  One didn’t deny the Prime.  Prowl nodded, “Yeah.”

Ratchet stood and let Optimus into the ICU.  He thanked Ratchet for letting him in before turning his attention to the Praxian on the medical slab.  “Hello,” stated the Prime.  He wasn’t smiling his expression stayed neutral.  “As you are probably aware I am Optimus Prime.  How are you feeling?”

Prowl sat as formally as he could.  His door wings were stiff and his back struts protested sitting so straight, but this was the Prime.  One doesn’t just sit so unprofessionally in front of the Prime.  “I am doing as well as can be expected, sir.  I am Prowl.”

“Well, Prowl, I am pleased to meet you.  I just wish we had met under better circumstances.”  The Prime sat at a chair at the end of Prowls medical slab.  It seemed that the Prime was trying to _relax_.  “I came here to inform you of your options, but first I would like to say: I apologize.  We should have been able to predict that assault on Praxis.  I will not be happening again.”

Prowl nodded, he was mad about the Decepticons destroying his home.  “I do not blame you or your Autobots sir,” he said looking anywhere but the Prime and the medic.  He wasn’t entirely sure what he was going to do now. 

The Prime shifted in the chair, it suddenly seemed too small for the Prime.  “I wanted you to know that we have a shuttle ready if you decide to remain neutral.  It will take you off world to the closest neutral colon.  We will also take you in as an Autobot if you so wish.  I know this is a tough decision – “

“I want to be an Autobot,” stated Prowl.  His door wings angled in an assertive position.  “I want to make them pay for what they did to my frame-kin.”


	3. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's better but he's frustrated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, we had to move quickly. Hopefully I get my computer up in my new room soon then I can write on my own keyboard.

Prime had accepted Prowls application for the Autobots.  And the Praxian was determined to get back on his feet as quickly as possible.  Which caused his therapist some discomfort in how Prowl was going through his PT.

Prowl had been on this thing for the past hour and half, Ambulon watched him.  He had to give the Praxian credit.  He was determined to make it back to optimal condition in the least amount of time possible.

“You should really take a break,” stated Ambulon.  “If you push yourself too hard you will set your recovery time back.”

Prowl grunted, Ambulon had said that every time he felt like he was making progress.  Ratchet had stopped by to say the same thing as well.  Only the CMO hadn’t been too gentle about it.  He had pushed him onto the hover chair, the Praxian crossed his arms almost glaring.

“Resting is just as much a part of recovery as walking,” stated Ratchet.  The medic kneeled in front of the Praxian.  “You are going to be a handful,” mumbled Ratchet as he did a follow up on the mechs optic sensor.

“Would I be able to get a visor?” asked Prowl.  “I know it’s only a slightly different shade of blue but it is noticeable.” 

Ratchet once satisfied with how the officer’s optic functioned with the light pen stood.  “I’ll see what I can do.”

“You’d look good with a visor,” grinned a new mech; a blue, white, and red mecha laying on the padded table.  A blue and white formula 1 speedster helping him bend his knee joint.  “Not that you don’t look good now,” the sly mech was smirking as the thin racer finally eased up on his leg.

Ratchet rolled his optics, leaving to return to other patients that ended up in Medical when Prowl had been released.

“The names Jazz,” stated the mech.  “What’s a pretty little thang like yourself doin’ here?”  The blue and white racer had started messing with Jazz’s knee joint, causing the mech to fidget.

“I was crushed by a building when Praxis fell,” stated Prowl.  “Got a new optic and door-wing.”  Prowl hadn’t really talked to anyone outside of the Prime and medical staff.  He was still recharging in the med bay at what seemed like all hours of the day.  Ratchet had said this was normal, his body was trying to heal itself.  He was hoping that soon he would be released.

Jazz suddenly regretted asking.  “That must mean you’re Prowl, right?” asked Jazz.  The rest of the base had seen Bluestreak.  But not too many had seen the other survivor, Ratchet had a tight lock on him in Medical.

Prowl nodded, “You would be correct.”  The officer tried getting up again before his elbow joints hissed and he fell back down.

“See? I told you that would happen,” stated Ambulon low.  “Just stay in the chair and we’ll continue your therapy tomorrow.”

Prowls door-wings dropped, he rested his head in his right hand.  This was frustrating, he should have been able to get back on his peds by now.  Sure having lost a major component in any Praxians balance systems would cause them to relearn basics skills, but it frustrated him.  Before the Decepticons had attacked Prowl had been able to walk, run, and stand without fear of toppling over.  Now with his replaced wing he would always be a fraction slower, a fraction off balance.

Ratchet and his team had done their best to get the wing as close to normal as possible.  But a replacement part would never be that good.  There was no way to completely replicate a lost part.  Every part was slightly different.

“Cheer up Prowler,” grinned Jazz.  “Soon you’ll be up and kicking Decepticon aft in no time!”

“Do not call me ‘Prowler’,” stated Prowl as Ambulon walked over with ice packs for his shoulders and legs.

Soon the sleek mecha that had been working on Jazz’s knee stood, “Keep up the good work Jazz, you be back in the field in no time.”

“Thanks Raj,” smiled Jazz before he turned to Prowl.  “So, You want to head to the rec room for a little bit of energon?”

“I would prefer not to,” stated Prowl.  He wasn’t fond of the hover chair.  He would much rather drag himself through the hallways than be seen in it.  It was a rather stupid thing to be embarrassed about but he felt weak in it.

“You’re staying in medical right?  Then why don’t I pick up some energon for you then we can hang at your med slab?  Does that sound cool?”

Prowl shrugged in his chair, “Sure.” He wasn’t too sure how Ratchet would take to him having a visitor.  But he was out of the ICU now. 

“Then let’s go,” grinned Jazz pushing the hover chair back to medical.  “I’ll drop you off at medical then I’ll bring you a cube.  We can chat, how does that sound?”

Prowl had never been one to crave attention, he had never seen a need to be surrounded by friends, or have company.  Not too many people got along with him, the officer figured it was better if he stayed by himself.

Jazz hadn’t really given him a chance to argue either way, the medical bay was connected via a sliding door.  The other mecha had dropped him off in the middle of the medical bay and took off.  Prowl hummed getting himself to his med slab.  He didn’t put too much hope into other mecha returning.

Prowl was thankful he could put himself into the medical slab, even with an off kilter center of balance.  He was in the slab reading when Jazz returned three cubes in his arms.  Jazz pulled the curtain to give them some privacy, hoping that Ratchet wouldn’t disturb them too much.

The officer was surprised to see him return, the energon was not an unwelcome sight.  The Praxian had been stuck on medical grade for a while.  While Medical grade had extra nanites and sped up the healing process it still tasted like sludge.  He really appreciated the regular energon.

Jazz handed Prowl a cube he had brought into medical.  Prowls door-wings fluttered as he took a sip of the sweet energon.  Jazz winked to the Praxian setting the third cube on the counter next to the med slab.  “Don’t tell Ratchet that I brought you a regular cube.  He might turn me into a chair.”

“So,” started Jazz.  “How are you liking it on base?”  He sipped at his energon.  They both continued to talk for hours.  They both learned a little something about each other.  Jazz had been on a mission when he had blown his knee joint, and had made the injury worse by transforming and driving back to base.  Ratchet had given him a stern yelling to when he had gotten back.

Prowl had answered any questions Jazz had asked about him.  Though Prowl wasn’t comfortable being so open with Jazz quite yet.  Ratchet had come in to inform Jazz that he was needed on the Bridge.

Ratchet watched Jazz leave before turning to Prowl.  “You said you wished to go through the ritual of getting your autobrand correct?”

Prowl nodded, “yes.  How might I start studying to take the test?”

“You will study with Ultra Magnus,” stated Ratchet.  “He’s coming down here to give you a run down on how the test will go.”

“Thanks for the warning,” stated Prowl turning to his data pad and reading.

Ratchet nodded leaving Prowls area to continue working.

.: ■ :.

Magnus had visited him much later than Prowl had expected.  He had gone on and on about what he would need to know about going through the right of the Autobrand.  Magnus had attempted to start lecturing him on the Autobot code immediately.  Prowl had refused he wanted to be back on his peds before he went through the ceremony.

Magnus had nodded and said that he had understood.  Magnus had left several minutes ago and all Prowl could do was stare at the ten thousand page manual stored on the data pad.  This was quite a bit of information. 

He set the data pad on the counter next to his medical slab, it had been a long and exciting day for Prowl.  He had some new mecha and he was more tired than he was willing to admit.  Prowl rolled onto his side, adjusting the med slab in the process so it was laying him flat.  His door wings twitched as he fell into recharge.

.: ■ :.

The next morning Prowl woke to Jazz sitting next to him.  He jumped, his siren going off in surprise.  How had he done that?  Was Prowl not paying enough attention to his sensors?  Were his sensors malfunctioning?

“Hey, Hey,” stated Jazz trying to calm down the officer.  “Sorry.  Didn’t think you’d have a reaction quite like that.” 

Prowl was in the middle of taking a deep intake as Ratchet came in to make sure he was okay.  “Prowl?”

“I’m fine, He just surprised me is all,” answered Prowl.  His door wings trembled as he attempted to get his spark beat to go slowdown.  He took a few deep intakes, before he stopped feeling his spark beat all throughout his body. 

Prowl laid back careful of his new wing, the appendage was sore today and it was giving him a head ache.  It didn’t help that Jazz had made it worse by scaring him earlier.  Ratchet had left the room leaving Prowl and Jazz alone.  The Praxian turned to Jazz, “You wanted something?”

“Nothin’ much,” grinned Jazz.  “Just wanted to hang for a bit before I went on duty.  Thought you might be bored so I gathered what novels I could find.  Thought you might enjoy having something to do while you’re stuck here.”

Prowl nodded, “Thanks, I appreciate that.”  Jazz smiled back, he was happy to hear that his little bit of thoughtfulness was appreciated.

“So you are on active duty even though you require Physical therapy still?” asked Prowl curious.

“I’m not allowed back in the field yet,” stated Jazz.  He had yet to be cleared by Ratchet to return to doing missions.  “It my knees don’t prevent me from doing paperwork,” At this Jazz made a disgusted face.  “I can’t wait to be back in the field.  I don’t feel like I’m pulling my weight around here.”

Prowl nodded, that’s how he felt laying on this damn med slab.  “I know how you feel,” stated Prowl skimming through one of the novels Jazz had given him.  “Thank you for the books though I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome,” grinned Jazz happily.  “I know that Hatchet isn’t much for company.  And being bored can’t help your healing process in any way.”

Prowl couldn’t help but smile, it was the closest he would ever come to laughing again.  He was healing fine on his own, in fact both Ambulon and Ratchet has stated that he was basically all healed.  The only thing he needed to do now was regain his bearing and get back to walking then running.  Emotionally Prowl still had plenty of hiccups.  He was still going through the 5 stages of grief, he seemed to be stuck in the denial phase. 

Jazz lost focus looking at his chronometer, “I should get going Prowler, I’ll see you later.”  He stood carefully watchful of his knee.  Jazz walked out waving and grinning madly as he left to do whatever it was he did.

The black and white officer smiled lightly waving back.  He hoped to see the cheerful mecha again, he wasn’t all that bad.  If he kept giving him books to read Prowl would have a friend in no time.  Once the Autobot was out of his privacy curtain he turned on the tablet, starting to read the story.

It was good to have entertainment while resting in medical.


	4. Battles and interrupted recharge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl finally meets another Praxian, a young mech who might not have been physically injured during the raid still has trouble recharging at night.

Prowl felt like he had been in medical for years.  Stuck in some horrible infinite loop: recharge, medical test, study, lesson with Ultra Magnus, meal, recharge repeat.  Prowl had never liked being near medical facilities, let alone be in one.

His normal, barely there recharging pattern had been wildly disturbed by the facilities lights and noises.  Every noise the area made seemed to send his processor into over drive.  He woke every few hours to the sound of a spark monitor, or a patient shuffling in an attempt to get out of their med slabs.  It didn’t help that when he could recharge finally it was often disturbed by nightmares of the raid on Praxis.

He would go back to looking at the inner workings of his apartment building.  How much he ached. How scared he truly was about being trapped there.  How he felt so claustrophobic as the walls kept coming in on him.  How he thought he would never be able to get out.  How he would never escape.  How he would never get to see the rest of Cybertron or drive ever again.  Not after a building fell on him.  He thought back to how he thought that even if he survived the crash there was no guarantee that any rescue team would find him if anyone ever got to Praxis.

Prowl jumped as he woke up.  He took a good long look around and took note of where he was.  Blindingly fluorescent light, sterile environment, light chatting down the way a little bit.  The beeping monitors really put it into perspective for him, medical bay.  He sighed as his spark rhythm slowed down.  His limbs tingled as he attempted to stand and stretch.  It would still be some time before he was ready to walk without assistance. 

He hung his legs over the side of the medical berth, contemplating if he wanted to stand on his own.  He stretched out, his door-wings following his arms.  He could feel the tension wires snap into place with a crack.  Prowl felt a little better, but stretching didn’t solve his med slab issue. 

He rubbed the leg that had been crushed by the building.  The pain a reminder of what he had to fight for: revenge for all the frame kin who were killed in that attack. 

“So you’re up,” stated his new med slab roommate.  He was a fellow Praxis survivor; he had been conscious when the Autobots had brought him in.  Prowl wasn’t entirely sure why he had been brought into the _Praxian wing_ of the Autobot medical bay. 

Prowl could only hum and his sensor win bounced up and down at a high angle signaling _yes_.  Prowl looked over the younger grey Praxian.  It was sad to see someone so young having to suffer through so much tragedy.  Prowl wasn’t even entirely certain the kid was supposed to be without a mentor and guardian of some kind.  “Why are you up?”

“Oh you know,” stated Bluestreak.  “The beeping monitors and buzzing of the lights is keeping me up.”  His door wings fell as he spoke signaling he wasn’t telling the truth, but Prowl let it slide.  There was no use to poking into what happened, it wouldn’t help the younger mech it would only cause more pain.  They had suffered enough for a lifetime.

“I understand Bluestreak,” stated Prowl.  Prowl laid back on his bed dragging his healing leg up on the med slab after him.  He looked to Bluestreak and smiled lightly.  “So Bluestreak, tell me about some of the neat mecha you met before ending up in medical?”

The kid had needed a distraction anything to take his mind off of replaying the events of the raid.  Prowl had chosen a topic and he hoped that Bluestreak would go into detail about every one of the mecha he had met.    It might not have been healthy for him to distract himself by chatting about random topics but it sure helped calm him down.

As the younger went on Prowl listened carefully as Bluestreak went on about all the mecha he had met on base.  He even went on about how he got the meet the Prime and Magnus.  Bluestreak continued to talk about the different Autobots even as he rolled onto his front, and started messing with his heating sheet. 

Eventually the younger mech had gone back into recharge, having stopped mid-sentence about some mecha named Sideswipe or Sidestreet or something.  Prowl just laid back and sighed, listening to the noises around him.  He could feel exactly how exhausted he was: his entire frame felt like it was full of lead.    

Prowl laid back resting his optics in an attempt to fall into a light recharge.  Any kind of recharge would have been nice to partake in.   It seemed like hours before Prowl had finally gotten into recharge, and then it only seemed like he had gotten 5 minutes of said recharge before the base started flashing and the sirens went off.  This could only mean one thing: The Decepticons were attacking.

Ratchet voice came over the PA system, between the battle station alert.  The medical bay was locking down.  All medical personnel to the med bay on standby.  A battalion of nurses stood waiting on the patients that needed it before the influx of battle injuries came through.

Ratchet had soon taken his own station, stepping into the medical bay and locking down the doors.  Once the doors were secured he turned to his staff and told them where to be and what to do until the battle had stopped.

Bluestreak had been uncharacteristically quiet during this whole fiasco.  He had just gotten into recharge his first real good cycle of active recharge and this hard boots him out of it.  “Prowl?” asked the younger mech.  “What’s going on?”  Prowl could tell that the younger mech was scared.  Memories of Praxis coming to the surface.

“Not sure,” stated Prowl.  “We will be safe though.  These guys know what they’re doing.”  The black and white mech did what he could to ease the younger mechs fears and worries.  He sat up with the assistance of the med berth, maneuvering his legs over the side of the berth.  He hesitantly stood grabbing his IV stand and dragging it with him as support with every step he took with his weak leg.

He slowly limped to the other Praxians med slab.  It took him longer than he wanted to admit to get to the others medical slab.  He sat on the end of Bluestreaks bed, attempting to get himself comfortable.  He patted the younger mechs legs, in an attempt to sooth him.  “It’ll be alright.”

The smaller Mech maneuvered himself so his head was resting on the officer lap.  Prowl mindlessly patted his helm, rubbing his chevron in the same way a Guardian would to their charge.  The grey mech flinched every time the siren made its round again.  Prowl continued to sit with Bluestreak, even as he started silently sobbing too scared to talk throughout the whole ordeal.  Too worried it would happen again, too worried that what little comfort he had been able to find after the raid would be gone too soon after finding it.

The battle seemed to last far too long.  Prowl started getting worried that the Autobots might not have won.  Some soldiers had come back several pushing the limit with their injuries.  Eventually the alert stopped.  A message came over the PA: “The battle has stopped.  Medical staff: continue post battle protocol.  Soldiers report to your stations.  Officers: continue post battle protocol: Alpha.”

That message was the only thing to get the younger Praxian to stop his trembling.  “Bluestreak,” started Prowl he continued to run his thumb over the others chevron.  “We are safe.  It’s over.”

Bluestreak only seemed to hug him tighter as his door-wings fluttered, nodding for him.  Prowl continued his attempt – and apparent success- of calming the younger down.  He didn’t think that this mecha had been in his adult frame for very long.    He still held several distinctive signs that he might not be as mature as the rest of this army thinks he is.

It took a while before the younger mech was ready for the older to return to his med slab.  Eventually his grip loosened, and he was certain than his newly acquired guardian wasn’t going to disappear.  Prowl stayed for a while on the younger mechs berth, making sure that he was okay before returning to his own. 

Several hours had passed before any of the command staff or medics had come around to check on the non-critical patients.  A group of nurses had walked by some covered in dried mech blood others less dirty or at least better at cleaning up.  “Alright you two,” smiled the nurse.  “How are you feeling Bluestreak?  Did you get any recharge?”

The younger Praxian shrugged, “A little, the sirens woke me up.” 

The nurses body language saddened, “That is unfortunate.  I’m going to send in the doctor to check you out alright?”  The nurse had adjusted the items that had come out of place and then turned to Prowl.  “Prowl how is your side feeling?”

“A little sore, but otherwise fine.”  He rubbed his rebuilt leg.  There were still pains from when It had been crushed.  He wasn’t sure if it was mental or if his neural net really was messed up.

“How would you rate the pain on a scale of 1 to 10?”

“A 6,” stated Prowl quietly.  It still hurt but not as much as it had when he first got here.

“Do you want anything for the pain?”

“No I should be fine,” the officer pulled out his Autobot code text pad and started reviewing for the test Ultra Magnus was going to put him through.  He had done his homework, now he just had to wait for his next lesson in two days.

The nurse nodded fixing up Prowls tubes and lines before exiting the room and sending a doctor in.  He talked to Bluestreak quietly behind a pulled curtain.  It only took several minutes before the curtain between the two Praxians was opened once again.  Bluestreak had a far off look on his face, his optics dim and his door wings hung low.  The medic had probably given him something to assist with his recharge. 

The black and white glanced to his younger counter part as he babbled while he let the meds take over and his frame settled down into recharge.  Prowl soon followed after Bluestreak.  His recharge cycle kicking off well and it had been the first real good night of recharge he had had in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to update. I hope to be more active with uploads.


	5. The date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowls recovering as well as he can and is dealing.

It had been a few weeks since the battle had passed.  Bluestreak was back among the other bots doing his best to fit in and Prowl was still in medical.  His PT had taken a turn for the worse and everything he had been able to accomplish had backfired.  He was starting at step one again.  The pain in his leg seemed to come back tenfold and with a vengeance.  Ratchet had to give some heavy duty pain meds to allow him a few good hours of recharge.

As a response to the poor PT changes Ambulon reduced the visits Prowl was taking.  He figured that the officer was pushing himself too hard and would keep back tracking if they kept up the normal schedule.  The Psychiatrist suggested it might all just be a response to having the only city one has ever lived in get flattened in less than a day.

Prowl had taken the opportunity to ask for more sessions with the Autobot code book. 

“So article 20, section 1, subsection 1 talks about courtship with in the Autobot ranks,” continued Magnus as Prowl took vivid notes.  “There is to be no courting among soldiers.  The exceptions are as follows: Bonded previous to joining to joining the Autobots.”

It was a good rule to put in.  Get the wrong mech in the right position and there would be an abuse of power.  Be it that they thought their SO was in too much danger or that they just wanted to spend some time together.  The rule was there to keep things fair, to protect the soldiers from themselves.

Ultra Magnus went into detail why this particular article existed and went in depth about all the other sections and sub sections on the article.  Prowl was thankful that the larger mech wasn’t going on about that semi-colon and how interesting its location was.  That alone had been a few days of review.

Eventually the class ended, Ultra Magnus being the SIC had many things on his plate.  Teaching Prowl the ins and outs of the Autobot code was very low on the list.  He handed Prowl another data pad, homework as it were, and bid him farewell for the night.

Prowl had finally gotten comfortable after the larger mech left to perform his much more important duties.  He finally pulled out a story pad and read on.  He was still going through the pile of stories that Jazz had given him.  He seemed like a kind mech, definitely one of the more social mechs he has come across on base. 

Prowl had never been a social mech, he greatly preferred solitude to any type of _friendly_ interaction. His own trust in people had diminished to almost none while working as an enforcer.  He had decided long ago that people weren’t worth the hassle.  People lied and were only out for themselves.  Prowl had experienced such a thing with his own friends in Praxis.  His friends had used him, and now his outlook on Cybertronian kind was forever tainted.  Especially now after what the Decepticons had done to Praxis.

He sighed focusing on the book.  The curtain was pulled open and Prowl jerked up seeing the grinning visage of Jazz.  “Hey Prowler!  How you doin’?”

“Good,” stated Prowl.  This was Jazz’s second visit.  Prowl had been a little saddened that he hadn’t stopped by more often. 

“Well that’s good.  Sorry I haven’t been by.”  Jazz seemed to stiffen at the thought of leaving the Praxian without company.

“There is no need to apologize,” started Prowl.  “You have duties that you must attend to and you are allowed to have your own life.”

Jazz relaxed hearing that the Praxian understood, “So you liking the novels I picked out?”

“Very much so, they are no something I would have picked out on my own.  Thank you for letting me read them while I am stuck in medical.” 

Jazz grinned happy to hear that his choices in literature were not that bad.  “I am glad you’re enjoying them.” 

Prowl leaned over the side of the medical slab grabbing the books he had finished.  “I was able to finish these while you were away.”  Jazz took the data pads that the other handed out to him.

“Wow, you’re a quick reader.”  Jazz couldn’t help but chuckle.  It was amazing how much time one had when they were stuck in medical.  “I hope medical isn’t too boring.  When are you getting out of here?”

Prowl shrugged, “Not sure.  My release date was looking closer and closer till my leg blew out.”  The Praxian crossed his arms, unhappy with the developments that had transpired since Jazz had last seen him.

“That’s too bad,” sighed Jazz.  “I was hopein’ to get you out of here long enough to have dinner.” 

“Dinner?” asked the slab bound mech. 

“Yeah, you know, Dinner.” Jazz made himself comfortable at the end of the other mechs medical slab. “Evening refuel, usually the last meal of the day.”  He figured it would be better to _not_ ask if they had dinners in Praxis.  It was still too new of a wound for everyone.

“I kno-I know what a dinner is,” stated Prowl.  “Why?”

“’Cause I wanna get to know ya better.”

 Prowl was certain the grin on Jazz’s face couldn’t have been wider.  He sighed unsure of how he felt.  If he wanted to make a real difference and win this for the fallen of Praxis, he needed to keep away from where he was certain this was leading.  Then on the other end of his internal battle: He _liked_ Jazz.  The mech made his day.  Sure they had only really seen each other a few times but he seemed to make his miserable recovery that much better.

Maybe he was over thinking?  Two colleagues could go out to dinner every once in a while.  Maybe this wasn’t going where he thought it was going to go.  Maybe Jazz was just trying to be nice.

“I would enjoy going to dinner, with you,” Prowl wasn’t certain that he could speak that sentence without it coming out awkward.  “But uh, I don’t know if my Physician will let me out of here.”

“Well then: I can’t take you to dinner, I’ll take dinner to you!”  The blue and white mech was excited to finally have enough time and resources to be able to do this.  “So what do you say?  We will have whatever privacy the curtain is possible of giving us!” 

Prowl probably should have laughed, he had found it funny, the privacy curtain where you could hear everything it only just barely obscured vision. His door-wings subconsciously twitched happy for the small joke Jazz had said.  “Your idea sounds pleasant.”  Prowl didn’t want to sound too interested for fear of misinterpreting the other mechs actions. 

“Good, what kind of food would you like?” asked Jazz.  “Our chef can make just about anything.  Or I can see if we have any menus from the places that are still open in Iacon.” 

Prowl smiled lightly, it was odd for someone to offer so much for him.  “You can choose for me,” stated Prowl.  “I have no allergies so anything is safe for me to eat, just make sure it isn’t too spicy.”

“If you’re sure,” stated Jazz as he slowly stood from where he had been sitting on Prowls medical slab.  “I’ll be back in the time it takes to get an oil change!”  With that Jazz skipped off and Prowl brought his undamaged leg up and wrapped both arms around it.  Leaning forward and allowing his emotions get the better of his for a second.

Was he reading too much into this?  Was this something he should even be considering?  Would this be interpreted the wrong way and impede his chances of joining the Autobot ranks?  Would he be kicked out?

Prowl sighed attempting to perk up by the time Jazz returned from getting them food.  Eventually the mech would come back with energon, non-medical grade energon!  This would be Prowls first meal since getting to this Autobot facility that didn’t involve the nasty muted blue stuff.  Medical grade might be good for you but it didn’t taste good at all.

Soon enough Jazz returned his arms full of steaming hot energon.  Prowls tank growled happy to see some real food, something that tasted like anything other than licking a side of the building.  Prowl couldn’t stop his smile, his door-wings fluttered happy to see the food- and Jazz. 

“So I hope you like the meal I picked out.”  Jazz set the food containers at the food of the Praxians med slab.  He pulled a table over to the Praxian.  Once the table was secure he set the food on top and Jazz sat on the end of the slab.  Prowl did his best to move his injured leg out of Jazz’s way so he could be more comfortable.  “It’s a Polyhex special, it’s also a soup.”

Prowl could feel his intake water with anticipation.  He wanted real food badly.  It was probably better it was soup seeing as he hadn’t had anything too solid since coming to Iacon.  He didn’t even remember what his last real meal was.  Prowl hoped he wasn’t drooling as the Polyhexian set the soup right in front of him with the proper utensils.

“Go ahead, dig in.”  Prowl looked to the other mech before nodding and eating the soup.  The taste was exhilarating.  He had forgotten when slightly seasoned meals tasted like.  It wasn’t too plain and it wasn’t so spiced that it caused his tanks to cramp. 

“You are a Primus send,” stated Prowl between slurps of his soup.  Jazz had started on his own meal, a similar but by the smell of it Spicer soup.  Eventually the Praxian slowed down, eating like a bot who hadn’t been stuck on medical for the past 3 months or so.

Jazz watched as the Praxian slowed his eating, his visor brightened.  He was happy to see Prowl was enjoying the soup, even if it was only for the fact that he hadn’t really eaten anything that was considered “ _real food”_ in a very long time.  “So, Prowler, what did you do before coming here?”

Prowl paused unsure if he disliked the nickname now, “uh, I was a cop for the PPD.”

“A cop?  I figured.”  Jazz knew there were only two outcomes with stickers like those attached to his frame.  Either he had been a cop or a very dedicated pleasure bot.  “I was a musician in Iacon.  I moved here from Polyhex as soon as I got the money.  I played a lot of gigs in some nice places.”

“That sounds fun,” stated Prowl.  “Being a musician must have meant you travelled a lot.”

“I was going to,” started Jazz.  He took a bite of his meal, being only a quarter of the way through his meal rather than Prowl being almost done with his.  “I had signed a contract with a record label and everything!  But I guess fate has a way of say _now isn’t the time_.” 

Prowl lifted the container and started drinking the left over broth.  It gave him time to think, he had never been very good at social interaction and he didn’t really want to scare the other mech away.  “I’m sorry that is awful.  Hopefully you will be able to resume that career path when this mess is over with.”

“Yeah, I hope so.  How long can this war last anyway?”

Prowl shrugged, he truly didn’t have an answer.  He didn’t know how the war really started, only what the media had reported on in the beginning and for the most part Praxis attempted to stay out of everything and keep its own peace.  Praxis had tried to keep to itself and look how well that had gone. 

Prowl took one last drink of his soup finishing it off and setting the empty container on the table.  “You were hungry,” stated Jazz.  He couldn’t hold back a chuckle.  “Is the Hatchet not feeding you?”

“The Hatchet?” asked Prowl quietly before trying to decipher if what Jazz was asking was a joke or not.  “I am not a fan of Medical grade energon.  It was nice to have some decent energon again.”

Jazz laughed, “I bet.  Maybe I’ll stop by more often and get you some real energon in you more often.”

Prowl smiled.  “I would like that Jazz.”


	6. The Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things for the Praxian are finally coming together?

Prowl took a long deep breath and exhaled it quickly, he was back on his PT routine.  His test was less than a week away and he would become a fully pledge Autobot.  Ultra Magnus had done his best to ready the Praxian for the test and Prowl really did feel ready for it.  He was ready to finally take the first real step forward to avenging his frame kin to honor those that lost their lives and everything that day.

The physician in charge of his PT was currently cheering him on, but the Praxians mind was elsewhere.  His date with Jazz a week ago had gone pleasantly.  They had learned something about one another, mostly what one would ask a co-worker in an elevator when attempting to avoid awkward silence.  Still Prowl had had a good time and his PT was going better than ever.   Jazz had stopped by during his last session, attempting to get Prowl to take a break more often than he allowed himself to.

Today Prowl had a goal.  After he passed the exam, there would be a ceremony this would initiate him into the Autobot cause.  After the exam he would then be an Autobot, but after the ceremony he would be a _real_ Autobot in every sense of the word.  He would finally be able to take the appropriate steps to acquire the appropriate steps to vengeance for his family and his friends.  “Alright! Good-good!  Let’s take a little rest,” insisted Ambulon.  “We don’t want your leg to relapse again.”

Prowl nodded before allowing the nurses to assist him to the chair they had waiting for him.  His leg was sore and his door hinges were aching.  The PT for the door-wings had been fairly easy.  He already had basically all movement and function back in the one that had to be replaces.  His Right arm still required Weekly PT now but he had made great progress in doing so.  He had come to realize that even after he was done with PT his leg, arm, and door-wings might never regain full 100% function again but it was still worth it to have them even a little bit functional rather than not at all.

“You’re doing fantastic,” stated Ambulon.  “If you continue with this pace you should regain 90% function of your leg.  98% on your arm.  You’ve already regained 99% in your door-wing.”  That was all well within range for combat on the field.  “With a medic's sign off you would make a great black ops agent.”

Prowl only nodded, it wouldn’t be his choice where he would end up with in the army.  He could end up in special operations, tactical, the front lines.  The Prime would put him where he figure he would do the best where he needed people the most and Prowl would have to live with that.  He was certain that no matter where he ended up he would be able to assist the army in any way he could. 

Ambulon waited to see if the other mech would respond before changing the subject, “After you have had your **mandatory** resting time, let’s see if we can walk back to your medical slab.”

Prowl looked to the medic unsure if he was teasing or not.  He hoped it was a joke.  He wasn’t sure he was ready for such a venture.  Walking all the way from PT to the main med bay?  It wasn’t really all that far but it was by far the longest he would have ever walked on his own.  “I- are you sure?” asked Prowl staring at the physician as though he had gone off the deep end.  It had happened to plenty of other individuals during this war, who’s to say it couldn’t happen to a physician?

Ambulon only gave a reassuring smile, “You can do it.  And if you can’t make it all the way I will have First Aid accompany you with a chair.  But you can only use it as a backup.”

The doctor’s _pep talk_ did nothing to lessen the fears that the Praxian held about walking all the way back to his slab.  “What if I blow out my leg again?  Last time you said I was pushing myself too hard.  Who’s to say I’m not pushing myself too hard now?”

“Well because when you first started PT, you were pushing yourself too hard too early,” explained the physician.  The orange and white medic wrote down something on his file pad.  “Before your leg was still recovering from the trauma, most of your frame was still overcoming the shock of having a building come down on top of you.  While it was imperative to get your PT started while the right side of your frame started the healing process it was just as important to take it easy as well.  At the time your frame was working overtime to not only heal the leg but keep up with PT.  Now that for the most part all of the healing is done, you are allowed to push it once more.”

Prowl only hummed, it did make sense, logically.  He wasn’t entirely convinced it was right but it made sense.  “Alright I’ll give it a try.”

“That’s the spirit!” Jazz grinned walking up to the small group. 

Prowl jumped not knowing Jazz was going to stop by.  It wasn’t that the mech was unwelcome just that the Praxian was not used to receiving visitors in PT.  He couldn’t stop the smile from forming on his face.  Even in this weird time the Praxian saw the musician as hope. 

“Besides,” started First Aid, “You won’t be totally on your own, you’ll have this!”  The nurse held out a cane.  The red and white nurse’s optics brightened and Prowl was certain that if a mouth lay under that mask that the nurse was smiling.  Prowl didn’t want to reply on such a thing to get him back to his medical slab.  It seemed a little humiliating, after all a mech his age using a cane?  It was quite the hit to the ego. 

Prowl silently nodded before taking the cane quickly from the nurse.  He was a little embarrassed that he would likely need the assisted device on the way back to the medical slab.  It meant that while he had made wonders in recovery he still had a way to go before he was back on his feet without assistance.

“So, can I walk you to your slab in medical?” asked Jazz.  The silver mech smiled and held out his hand, offering it to the mech sitting on the chair.

“If you want to,” stated Prowl.  He found it hard to imagine that Jazz would want to assist him or keep him company in such a situation.  For Jazz he could walk normally at a normal speed, with a normal gate.  Prowl was likely to cause the short walk to triple in trip time.  He still had a rather noticeable limp; his leg still hadn’t regained a lot of movement in the joints.  It was disheartening for Prowl to see just how far he still had to go.

“I want to Prowler; it will give us time to catch up.”  Prowl smiled and nodded to his impromptu guest.  It might be nice to have some company, maybe.  The officer wasn’t entirely sure he _could_ say not to Jazz.  He would be surprised if anyone could say no to Jazz.

Prowl took the blue and white mechs offered hand.  Jazz pulled him up, the Praxian using his good leg to do most of the lifting of his frame as a whole.  As soon as Jazz was certain Prowl could stand on his own he let the mech go and took a step back. 

Prowl was a little wobbly at first.  His door-wings moving erratically to stabilize his without the normal assistance he was used to in PT.  Soon enough Prowl was standing up straight and on his own.  Ambulon made a note of it in his file before Jazz took a step forward.  “Alright!  So far so good!”

“Try taking a step or two on your own,” stated Ambulon. 

Prowl took a hesitant step forward.  His door-wings moved erratically, without the assistance of the side rails his systems were quickly attempting to find a way to correct his center of gravity.  He winced when the original door-wing attempted to correct his center with a sharp angle.  He hadn’t even realized his first step on his own had actually been taken.  He wasn’t flat on his aft and he had done a decent job keeping his center of gravity where it was supposed to be. 

“You did great Prowler!” cheered Jazz.  “You ready to try and make it to the med bay?”

Prowl only nodded, afraid that if he spoke he might lose whatever it was he had to complete his steps like that.  Jazz only smiled and let Prowl lead the way back. 

Soon enough they were out into the hall way, away from the gossiping nurses and nosey physicians.  “So,” started Jazz as he rested his hands behind his helm.  “I was thinking, since you’re doing so well with PT and stuff, that we might to dinner not in the med bay tonight?”

Not do dinner in medical?  Prowl frowned it was a legitimate request.  He wouldn’t be able to argue the request without sounding like a fool.  He liked the privacy medical permitted, he wasn’t required to stand or walk anywhere.  He knew that feeling this way about his recovery wasn’t going to get to heal any faster, but he couldn’t help but want to be 100% before he went back out into the public.  “I-sure.  I am afraid that I still might not be able to go too far.”

Jazz only smiled harder at that, “That’s fine!  I was thinking of just taking you to the rec center, you know enjoy some food made by the Primes chef.  You’ll be able to choose for yourself this time.  Whatever you want!  Any expense I’ll cover.”

Prowl took hesitant steps stumbling as Jazz was talking.  Jazz’s quick reflexes saved the Praxian from falling completely to the ground.  “You alright?” asked Jazz.  The white and blue mech had a tight grip on his wheel well, keeping him from hitting the ground completely.

“Yeah just the way you caught me hurts a little,” stated Prowl as he attempted to steady himself upright again and used Jazz’s frame to help get him upright.  He stumbled attempting to get himself upright.  Using Jazz as more of a crutch than anything thing. 

Eventually the cop got himself upright, and attempted to take a step all on his own, only to stumble more.  Jazz did his best to help the officer, grabbing his arm and laying it across his shoulders in an attempted to keep Prowl walking to medical instead of calling for a wheeled chair.

“Bummer and we had made so much progress!” Jazz became the cane that Prowl refused to use.  The blue and white mech allowed Prowl to take the lead while he assisted the Praxian to medical.  “You’re not hurt are you?”

Prowl shook his helm, “No, my prides a little sore but I am physically unharmed.”

“Good!  I thill think we should try to go to the rec center for dinner tonight.  You’ll get to meet some of your future teammates, if you’re up for it.”  Prowls smiled faded a little, and Jazz did his best to recover.  “Or it could just be the two of us. Being TIC does have its advantages.”

“You’re TIC?” asked Prowl.  Jazz only nodded as they continued on their way to medical.  Prowls venting stopped for a moment.  Prowl was really starting to doubt that Jazz was doing any of this to be more than friends.  Why would he court a demotion or even brig time for the possibility of fraternizing amongst the soldiers, or inductee in Prowls case.  He had several days before he would be fully prepared for the Autobot code exam but that still didn’t mean he should even attempt to get involved with the TIC of the Autobot armed forces.

“Yep,” stated Jazz grinning largely.  He had noticed the black and white mech tense.  Sure he had been quiet for the whole trip so far but the saboteur had put that quiet ness up to embarrassment of not being able to walk properly.  “That isn’t a problem is it?”

“No!” stated Prowl.  His door wings went up realizing what he had said may have been too loud or maybe even too quick of a response.  “Uh I mean, it’s not a problem,” stated Prowl quieter this time.  “It’s just surprising is all?”

“Hard to believe such a slacker could ever become the Third highest rank in an army eh?” Jazz laughed, Prowls guess was to lighten the mood. 

“No that’s not what I meant,” Prowl said in an attempt to clarify.  He wasn’t entirely sure he could clearly state what he had meant.  “I uh, what I meant wa-“

Jazz chuckled, “Chill Prowler, I’m kidding.  I know that’s not what you meant.” 

“Oh.”  Finally the Praxian and the saboteur made it the medical bay.  Jazz helped him in through the front sliding door of the medical bay.  The white doors with medical crosses painted on them revealed a blinding florescent light inside the large waiting room and Ratchet waiting with a wheeled chair.

“How far did you get before you had to use Jazz as a crutch?” asked Ratchet.  Jazz helped the Praxian into the chair before backing off. 

“He made it to the second bulkhead,” answered Jazz.  “I thought he did pretty well for his first venture back from PT.”

“I would hardly call how I got here something to be proud of but at least I wasn’t using Jazz the whole time I had been on my way here.”  Prowl adjusted himself on the chair, his door-wings fluttering to find a comfortable space to rest in the chair. 

“Well I guess there’s that,” chuckled Ratchet.  “I’m glad to see you’re finally seeing the bright light at the end of the long-aft tunnel you’ve found yourself in.”

Prowl only nodded, “Yeah, bright light.”

Jazz walked beside Prowl as the medic wheeled him to his medical slab.  Jazz and Ratchet chatted with each other before Prowl had come to a complete stop.  “So,” started Ratchet.  “You want help getting into the recharge slab or what?”

“I think I will stay in the chair for a bit,” stated Prowl.  “I should probably get to see more of the base anyway.”

Ratchet nodded before leaving to tend to other patients.  Prowl turned to Jazz from his chair.  “So, what did you have in mind?”

Jazz grinned grabbing the back of the Praxians chair and walking him over to the seats the medical staff had provided for Prowls visitors.  Soon He sat across from the Praxian and rested his elbows on his knees and his hands cupped together.  “Okay so, what I have planned is going to be sweet!  First I was thinking dinner, in the rec center.  Chef makes a mean Poly-cake!  Then we could head to movie night, it’s just something small.  In one of the meetings rooms and Rewind is hosting it tonight so it should be a good one.”

“Movie night?” asked Prowl.  He had been surprised to hear that they had such luxuries.  Being in the middle of a war Prowl would have thought that things like movies or dates would have been put on the back burner.  The Autobots had a war to win after all.

“Yeah movie night,” grinned Jazz.  “It’s just a way for the soldiers to unwind really.”  The blue and white mech leaned forward stretching out his back.  “Usually it changes locations, sometimes Rewind hosts it other times it could be Hound in charge.  Usually the movies are picked beforehand where we go depends on how many send in an RSVP.”

“Sounds fun, what movie are they showing?”

“The day Cybertron stood, some sort of Quientession horror movie I think.  I guess it came out recently,” stated Jazz.  “Does that sound like an interesting night?”

Prowl nodded, “Yes it does!  If we are going to make it to movie night when should we leave for dinner?”

“We could get dinner now if you want and maybe explore the base,” stated Jazz.  “Or if you want to we can wait a while.”

“I think we could go now, no better time than the present right?” asked Prowl.  Jazz only laughed and stood up, walking behind the Praxian and wheeling him forward. 

“Too true,” Jazz wheeled him out of the room and to the front desk.  “Hello nurse, I am borrowing the Praxian for a little while I’ll bring him back in the same condition.”

The nurse only nodded handing the Polyhexian a sign out sheet.  “You’re signing him out incase Hatchet isn’t fond of the idea.”

“That’s a smart move mech,” stated Jazz as he signed the data pad. 

Soon enough the two mechs were on their way out of medical and off to explore the hallways of the base.  Nothing that would have compromised the security protocol of the Autobots and their base but it was still pretty in depth. 

Jazz showed him what he could; he was after all still a civilian.  He hadn’t undergone the exam, while he was determined to be an Autobot that didn’t mean that He would get to see the entire base.  Prowl realized that this was a security protocol and he really had no issues with it.  Jazz had shown him where all the storage spots were, where the soldiers hung out.  Where some of the sketchier mecha spent their free time.  Some of the ins and outs, just enough to ensure that Prowl wouldn’t get too lost if he had to make a journey on his own without a guide.

“You ready for some dinner?” asked Jazz as he started wheeling Prowl the other way from their original heading. 

“Yes.  Dinner sounds nice right about now,” smiled Prowl.  “Thanks for the tour; the base is a lot bigger than I thought it would be.”

“You haven’t seen the base from the outside have ya?” asked Jazz teasingly.  “I feel like it’s smaller than it should be.”  The blue and white mech made sure Prowl was secure in front of the rec room doors before opening the sliding doors.  “Whelp, this is it!  It’s not much but it’s something.”

Prowl took a good look around, the place was quiet, probably between shifts.  A couple of mecha were huddled in a booth attempting to play some sort of board game.  Others were at the bar eating a meal they had ordered.  “It’s nice,” stated Prowl as he took another look around seeing if missed anything.  Sure it was nothing compared to what had been around before the war. But with such limited funds and time the Autobots had done a decent job in getting them what they needed to stave off boredom.

The saboteur wheeled him to a booth, “You want to actually sit in the booth?”

“I- yes.  I can get myself over to the booth,” stated Prowl. 

Jazz nodded, “I’ll go get you a menu, so that we can eat.”

Prowl nodded as Jazz walked off to go get the menus for him.  He lifted himself out of the chair and carefully made his way to the booth seat.  He had just sat himself on the bench when Jazz had returned with the menus.  He set a menu in front of the Praxian and sat across from him at the table. 

“Hopefully you like what’s on the menu,” smiled Jazz as he looked over the menu in his own hands.

Prowl hummed there would be _something_ on the menu that he would like.  Prowl looked it over carefully, The Autobots had a wide range of available foods to eat.  Made by the Primes own chef.  Apparently it was a pretty big deal this chef. 

“I guess I’ll have the strut-less cyber-chicken wings,” stated Prowl.

“You sure that’s only an appetizer,” stated Jazz.  “You don’t want like an actual meal?”

“No, I think the appetizer will be enough for me,” explained Prowl.  “Ratchet will have a digi-cow if I over eat.”

Jazz nodded memorizing what the Praxian was ready to order for his meal.  “I will be right back with some cyber-chicken wings,” with a grin the blue and white mech was off to gather the food.

Prowl took this time alone to evaluate his surroundings.  It had been a while since the Praxian had used his tactical computer.  He took in a bit of data experimenting to make sure that his systems still functioned normally.  He took count of the mecha in the room, his processor was a little behind but it was something his frame could compensate for.  He didn’t dare let it run for too long.  The medic would know and probably keep him in medical longer.

Bluestreak entered the rec room waving to him from the entrance before he was engrossed in conversation with an Autobot soldier.  The soldier leading the way to another part of the rec room, he could see Bluestreak enjoyed the others company.

Prowl jumped when Jazz finally returned with the food in his hands.  “Here!  Hope it’s as good as you think it is!”

“Thanks,” smiled the Praxian.   The other mech grinned as he started eating his meal.

“No problem,” stated Jazz smiling lightly 

Prowl was surprised at how well their _date_ was going.  He hadn’t been on many so he probably should be one to gauge how well this was going, but Prowl was having a fun time.  They chatted over dinner about several things.  Mostly getting to know one another better, Jazz seemed to become a better person the more he shared. 

Prowl on the other hand, it seemed as though every time he shared he just became the stereotypical enforcer.  Enforcing the law and not much else.  He couldn’t admit truthfully that he had done anything outstanding with his career, until now at least. 

It seemed like they had finished their dinner entirely too soon.  Prowl sat quietly in his booth listening to Jazz go on about his adventure in Kaon for work.  Jazz had already finished his meal quite some time ago.  Now though it was starting to get more crowded, a shift change was going to happen soon. 

“You ready for some Quentesson horror flicks?” asked Jazz as he stood up to taking both the empty trays and plates from in front of where he sat as well as where Prowl was sitting.

Prowl nodded, he was excited to see the movie.  He had never been a big movie watcher.  He had always been more into reading than watching films.  He also never really had too many fiends to go to movies with.  This was not a first for him but it had been a long time since he had ever been in a movie theater like setting. 

The movie seemed to be the correct formula of just enough romance, to horror ratio.  In the end the couple not only saved Cybertron but they had saved their bond.  It had been quite the emotional rollercoaster.

He had seen plenty of mecha leave during the movie; his guess was to beat the crowd out of the small door.  Prowl stretched as the credits rolled on the screen.  Prowl yawned having had a long day, he was ready to head home.  He sat at the edge of the seat next to Jazz, ready to switch himself into the wheel chair.  Prowl stood slowly letting his legs and door-wings stretch out.

“Well I am beat,” stated Prowl.  He stood for a while waiting for Jazz to get up.  Prowl felt awkward for standing in an attempt to leave and Jazz _not_ get up to leave.  It had seemed like an embarrassing amount of time for Prowl to have waited for the saboteur to stand up.  He sat back down attempting to not be awkward.

“Is there something after the credits?” asked prowl.  He had seen that done in some movies.  Some after credit sketch- usually funny- a lot of people stayed to watch them a lot left immediately after the movie credits rolled.

“Usually,” stated Jazz.  “Some of the bots used to work as animators before the war, some for movies, and others for TV shows.  They still like to create stuff, as a stress reliever.  Those that just watch the movies find them entertaining.”

“Oh,” Prowls door-wings dropped a little.  He didn’t want to seem rude but he also wanted to go back to his medical slab.  He had never been one to stay outside of his _safe zone_ for too long.  And currently he was reaching his last digit of acceptable public time. 

Prowl remained at the edge of his seat as the credits finished and the little short played at the end.  It had been a cute little animation but Prowl still greatly wanted to return his room recharge.  For him it had been a long day.  PT, walking on his own most of the way to Medical, then dinner and this date?  It had left the poor interpersonal Praxian cop exhausted.

It didn’t take long before the end sketch played and Jazz was satisfied.  Prowl maneuvered into his chair and made his way down to the exit.  He was glad it was finally over; Jazz pushed at the back of his chair and got him to medical. 

Prowl smiled seeing the medical bay doors, he was so close to being back in his medical slab again. Jazz smiled making sure Prowl wouldn’t roll away and stood in front of the Praxian.  “That was fun.”  Prowl smiled back happy to see that Jazz had a good time.

“It was,” stated Prowl. 

“We should do this again some time?” asked the Saboteur. 

Prowl nodded and smiled, “Yeah.  I’d like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is going on a short Hiatus. I'm working on a different story. I should be back to the regularly scheduled program after the New year :) Thanks for everyone of you that have read the story.


	7. The Test

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl takes the test.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait - its a longish chapter though so hopefully that makes up for it.

The room had been silent as the Praxian and one other took the Autobrand test.  It had been a long road to recovery but finally he had been able to get well enough to take the test.  He had been well enough by Ratchets standards which seemed to be much higher _healthy_ standards than his own.  The test had been challenging and likely it was going to be hard to grade as well.  After turning in his test he quietly made his way out of the quiet testing room and into the slightly less quiet hallway. 

This test hadn’t been like any test he had really taken – except maybe the police oral exam.  He felt drained after taking such a test.  The questions had been equal parts long and intense, and Prowl could tell that he was going to enjoy having Ultra Magnus as an officer.  The amount of thought put into the questions and care the officer would use deciding if Prowl truly had the software to be an Autobot – it was something the Praxian greatly admired.

Prowl rubbed his fore elm feeling the helm ache from such an exhausting test.  He hoped he could pass enough of the morality questions to be admitted into the Autobot army.  Prowl leaned against the hallway wall, hoping the ache would subside.  He didn’t want to spend another few hours in the medical facility attempting to get Ratchet not to freak out over a little head ache.

Prowl watched a few soldiers walk by as the Praxian made his way back to the temporary quarters he had Bluestreak shared while they awaited their judgement by Magnus and the Prime.  The Praxian walked slowly unsure if Bluestreak would be back in their shared quarters – with the beginnings of a helm ache going on he wasn’t sure he could handle the younger Praxians constant chatter.

“Hey!” shouted Jazz.  Prowl glanced to the TIC of the Autobots and allowed his door wings to relax a little.  The helm ache was still present but he would be able to suffer thorough such an ache to converse with Jazz.  “Heard you took your test today!  Done already are ya?” asked the blue and white mech grinning.

“Yes,” stated Prowl groggy the intense test had taken his toll on him.  “We started fairly early in the morning.  It was very intense – I’m not too sure I have ever encountered a test like that before.” 

“Yeah Mag’s tests can do that to you,” stated Jazz.  He grinned and patted the Praxian on the shoulder.  “You probably have one pit of a Processor ache.  I know after my test me entire emotional cortex felt numb – as well as my legs.  I think I got back home after my test and just recharged for like 2 days straight.”

Prowl only hummed and nodded his helm ache slowly getting worse; the Praxian could only hope that it didn’t show in his door wings.  He had spent a majority of his life attempting to keep his door wings from giving away his emotional state but every once in a while he lost control of the door appendages.

“Hey tell you what – no one uses my office,” started Jazz.  “Well except for me sometimes but I’m hardly ever there.  Why don’t you relax there hopefully get rid of that CPU ache and we can put on some soft music or somethin’?” offered the TIC.  “It’s not much and I can’t leave you alone there but I can get some of the paperwork done that OP and Mags keeps nagging me about.”

“I couldn’t possibly-“ started Prowl, there was no way he could possibly take a Commanding Officers generosity like this.  Jazz had already been so kind and Prowl had already complicated things by developing _something_ for the other mech. 

“Yes you can!” smiled Jazz.  “I have an open door policy!”  He neglected to mention that his open door policy meant that Jazz often walked out of his office door and never came back for the rest of his shift.  The Saboteur preferred to be with the troops than be behind a desk ordering others around. 

The blue and white mech took a firm hold on the black and whites wrist and lead him to his office.  Prowls door wings fell in his own internal battle.  Jazz was not assisting the situation where Prowl needed to get over whatever it was between the two of them.  They had gone on one movie date then a _real_ date.  Prowl was losing and he couldn’t afford being kicked out of the Autobots – or brig time.  Prowl had his own personal mission: make those that flattened Praxis pay.    Fraternizing with Jazz would hardly help in his private mission.

Eventually Jazz had pulled them into his office.  Once inside the air seemed _stale_ almost _moldy_.  It didn’t seem as though Jazz had ever used his office since the war had started.  “You’ve used this office before?” asked Prowl clearly not believing the saboteur about such things.  He didn’t seem to ever use this office before.  Dust had settled on many of the data pads and his chair had cobwebs around the base and calipers. 

“Yes,” huffed Jazz.  “Just not… recently,” Prowl raised an eyebrow to that statement hardly believing it.  He wondered how such a slacker of a mech could ever have been put into such a powerful position that required so much responsibility.  Maybe the Autobots weren’t so tight about the rules after all.  The way Magnus had made it sound if an Autobot broke any of the rules – even a small one – they were went to the brig for a few days and given a punishment detail.

“So if you don’t use this office for working what **do** you use it for?” asked Prowl curious as he looked around the office slowly taking everything in.  He looked around the room at the emergency exits and other important possible security/escape routes.  When Jazz finally started talking he turned his focus to the mech behind the dusty barely used desk.

“Usually?” asked Jazz for clarification as Prowl hummed and nodded in encouragement for the Autobot to enlighten him on his curiosity.  “Cat naps.”  The spy paused briefly before walking suggestively over to the couch occupying the south wall of Jazz’s office.  “Got the comfiest couch this side of Cybertron in this very office,” boasted Jazz.  “It’s almost like recharging on air.”

“mm-hm” hummed Prowl in disbelief. 

“Go ahead!” started Jazz.  “Try it!  I promise you won’t be disappointed!  The couch is super comfy!”  The spy attempted to make his best effort at placing the Praxian down on the couch to relax.  “Come on I promise it’ll help your processor ache! “

Prowl sighed and sat himself down on the couch.  It was firm yet just plush enough to sink into.  It really was very comfy.  “Thank you Jazz.  I greatly appreciate you offering to allow me to use your couch while this processor ache goes away.” 

“No problem,” stated Jazz before he walked to the back of his desk and rifled through the drawers.  He grinned holding a bottle of what seemed to be pills.  He shook it and they rattled confirming the Praxians hypothesis.  “Here.  These are some pain killers,” started Jazz.  “They aren’t strong like the pain killers the Hatchet gave you but they should ease the killer processor ache you got.”

Jazz opened the bottle and Prowl extended a servo, the saboteur placed a few pills into the Praxians opened servo.  “Thanks,” stated Prowl before putting his servo to his arm and placing them in the appropriate slots.  His processor ache was starting to ‘travel’ to other parts of his frame – the door wing that had been injured was starting to tenderize.

“No Problem,” stated Jazz.  “At least here you won’t be bothered by any one while the pain meds kick in.”  Jazz sat down roughly in his desk chair.  Dust seemed to hover over the chair having been disturbed by the air current Jazz had created from sitting down to roughly.

Prowl nodded as he waited for the pain meds to kick in.  His systems could only refresh themselves so fast.  His door wings twitched the right one more so than the left as Prowl attempted to get the slowly forming knot or pain from forming.  It had already hurt to move his left door wing – he wasn’t sure he could get rid of the knot being formed.  

The awkward silence had fallen upon their conversation – Jazz began tapping his stylus on the edge of his metal desk.  The Polyhexian had never been _great_ with silence, and found any amount of silence to be awkward.  If you could hear your own fans humming it was too quiet.  Jazz hummed attempting to find something to converse about – the color of the base maybe?  No, that would be a two word conversation, and then he’d end up right back here – in the awkward silence attempting to find another topic worth chatting about.  Jazz glanced up to the Praxian as he looked around the office – his door wing seemed to be attempting to stretch itself?

“Is your door wing alright?” asked Jazz.  He paused attempting to think of the appropriate words he wanted to say next.  “It looks… sad.”

Prowl stopped his door wing from its aggressive fluttering once Jazz had pointed it out.  He was a little embarrassed having his door wings do such a thing – he had total control over the appendages and they were only supposed to show what he wanted them to show.  He had not expected the other mech to notice the fluttering Door-wing.  “My door-wings do not have emotions, and they are not conscious thusly they cannot be _sad_.”

Jazz grinned, “I was teasing mech – no need to get all literal on me.”  Jazz pulled his left leg up into the chair and rested his chin on his knee.  “Does it hurt?”

“What my Door wing?”  The Praxian glanced back to his door-wing the same one that had been crushed and was considered non-viable after the building had fallen on him in Praxis. 

“No,” started Jazz sarcastically, “that _other_ part of you that was crushed by a building and had to be totally replaced.”  The blue and white mech stood from where he had been sitting and slowly made his way over to the couch.  Jazz stood in front of the Praxian a hand on his hip and his weight distributed more on his right foot than his left.

Prowl shrugged the pain shot quickly through the door wings strut and down to the base of his back before coming back up and resting at the bottom of his shoulder blades.  “A little,” stated Prowl.  “Though it is to be expected since the entire panel had to be replaced; there are bound to be some nerves that refuse to merge properly with the new panels.”

Jazz was silent for a moment, contemplating the Praxians rookie diagnosis on himself.  “Have you spoken to Ratchet?”

“No.”

“Can I try somethin’?” asked Jazz holding out his hand.  “Here give me your hand.”  The Blue and white mecha sat next to the Praxian on a chair just on the other side of the couch.  Prowl handed Jazz his hand allowing the Autobot to show him something.  “I can do this thing –“  Jazz glided his hand over the back of Prowls and up his fore arm, then back down to the back of his hand at the base of his fingers.  “It’s like a massage, I send out these low frequency sonar type things and it has a really nice effect on the knots and sore spots.  Want me to try and see if it helps ease the pain?”

“I-“ started Prowl as he attempted to figure out how to gently explain that such a thing from what would soon be his superior officer would be inappropriate.  His door-wings were a lot like the ailerons on a seeker.  They were sensitive – whereas only the bottom flaps and ailerons of a seekers wing were sensitive to touch and other stimuli a Praxian’s entire door wing was sensitive.  Jazz offering such a thing was borderline appropriate considering he might not be aware of such a _weakness_ among the Praxian frame kin.

Prowl watched Jazz’s face for queues on how to properly respond – He didn’t want to offend nor did he feel he should give in either.  This would be his future commander and all should he pass the test Ultra Magnus had proctored.  Could this be taken in the wrong context?  Could one of them get into trouble over such a normally considered close activity?

“I – okay, just don’t touch my door wings,” started Prowl giving into Jazz’s demands.  “There is a plate where the two dooring hinges connect – you may touch that but not the door wings.”  It was worth repeating and hopefully Jazz would keep his hand away from the ‘quarantine’ zones. 

“You got it boss!”  grinned Jazz as he hopped from the chair to the Couch all before Prowl could properly set himself up on the couch for optimal Jazz assistance on his back plates.  Prowl scooted over on the couch allowing the saboteur to sit comfortably on the couch as well.  Prowl rested on leg on couch and left the other on the floor allowing Jazz access to his back panels.

With Jazz only a two or so feet behind him Prowl attempted to do his best and relax with the other so close to him.  He had never really allowed any one this close voluntarily.  Jazz soon placed his hand on the Praxians back – right between the door wings.  The panel held the hinges to his door wings and was carrying the brunt of the ache.  It was an odd sensation, Jazz’s had was warm as he sent the vibrations through the Praxians frame.  The touch sent a tingling sensation though out his back.  The bottom of his shoulder blade seemed to ease a little at the Saboteur turned masseuse’s touch. 

“So,” started Jazz breaking the silence that Prowl had assumed was from Jazz attempting to concentrate.  “How does it feel?  Not bad right?”

“It’s nice,” stated Prowl after a decently long pause.  The tension in his back struts was slowly easing up the more Jazz’s hand wandered.  He wasn’t quite sure what it was that Jazz was doing specifically but it was nice.

Jazz grinned as he moved his hand away from the Praxians back plates slowly.  “I am glad I could be of assistance.”  Jazz stood up from the couch and returned to where he had been sitting.  “So how’s the processor ache?”

“I feel much better,” started Prowl as he stood up and tested if the throbbing pain was gone or not.  “The Processor ache and the doorwing ache are gone.  Thanks.”

Jazz grinned and gave a chuckle, “Super glad I could help mech.  I bet Blue’s looking for you – He just got off shift.  Probably wants to hear all about your test.”

Prowl nodded, he was thinking something along the same lines – though he hadn’t realized that Bluestreak had been on shift all this time.  “Yes.  I should get going – Thank you again,” stated Prowl as he stepped out the door and walked off.

Jazz held his grin till Prowl left the office and was off toward his quarters.  As soon as the door had slid shut Jazz sighed, he leaned forward his elbow joints resting on his thighs and he weaved his digits together and rested his helm on his entwined digits.  He gave himself time to gather his bearings.  Prowl was one good looking mech – and Optimus Prime had already spoken to him about the devastating effects of dating a subordinate.  Jazz wasn’t even entirely sure there was protocol involved for when said interest was attempting to join their faction and they start a relationship.

Jazz lifted his helm to the sound of knocking on his office door.  “Come in,” stated Jazz as he lifted his arms and rested them on the desk to at least look busy.  It was a little odd seeing that some one knew he was in his office, especially since he was never here.  Maybe Mirage – He often attempted to follow Jazz around when he felt his skills were getting rusty.

Jazz was caught a little by surprise seeing Optimus open the door.  Scrap – did he see Prowl leave the office?  Did he think something was going on between them?  “Hey OP.  What can I do you for?”  He asked hoping to keep it cool in case the Prime had no idea that Prowl had been in here before him.

Optimus took a good long look around studying every piece of the room.  Once he was finished scanning the room he looked over Jazz, “What did you and Prowl talk about?” asked Prime in an eerily calm tone.

The Prime saw little to no visual change in the saboteur’s body language.  Jazz was a master of deceit and intelligence gathering; Prime had to rely on an honor system with Jazz and his mechs.  No one was really able to tell if one was lying or not so he was forced to give them the benefit of the doubt – and if they did lie Optimus just had to accept that it was probably for his own good.  Though it was a bit harder to believe the second part than the first.

Jazz contemplated lying to the Prime, though there wasn’t anything _to_ lie about.  They had come into his office for a quiet place to chat while Prowl recovered from the ache inducing test Magnus gave earlier this morning.  There was nothing bad or incriminating in what had transpired in the office.

“We just talked OP – nothin’ more.  Promise,” stated Jazz as he finally made the decision.  It was better to be honest now rather than later when things could end up really bad.

Optimus studied Jazz with great scrutiny.  The Prime wasn’t looking for tells – it would be close to impossible for the Prime to tell if he was lying.  He was looking to see if Jazz would cave and admit the truth.  If he retracted what he said and admitted to a wrong doing then Optimus would know the truth.  If Jazz remained quiet Prime would be convinced that Jazz had been telling the truth – or at least a _version_ of the truth.

Jazz remained silent knowing the Prime quite well at this point.  Jazz had been honest and he knew the Prime was testing him – not that Optimus would have been able to see through the deceit any way.

After the intense staring session and the Prime attempting to intimidate Jazz into telling the truth, the Prime finally eased off.  His shoulders fell back into their more relaxed state that the army was so used to seeing a majority of the time.

It wasn’t long before the Prime cleared his vocalizer and stepped closer to Jazz’s desk.  “So – we have some new recruits.  Prowl is going to Tactical – he’s got the experience and he specializes in Tactical plans in Urban areas.  The Decepticons are moving to big cities more and more.  His input would be invaluable there.”

Jazz nodded, Tactical was currently a sub group of his division since they worked so closely.  There was a head of the tactical division but they report to Jazz.  This meant that Prowl was his subordinate.   There wasn’t any way that Jazz might be able to come up with a solution to their-his really- dilemma. 

“I see,” stated Jazz as Prime handed him the personnel report on Prowl.  It held an extensive resume.  Prowl had been a cop – no surprise there, the decals on his door-wings were proof enough that he could have been one of two things – a cop or a stripper.  But with tactical knowledge of urban areas it was likely cop.

“Disappointed?” asked the Prime curious.  Jazz might have been a master of deception but Optimus was only somewhat certain that the saboteur let his guard down a little with the Prime.  They were friends after all – good ones.  Even before he became Prime.

“No! This is good for him- A good position for him,” stated Jazz as he glanced over the page.  “He being in tactical is a good thing for us as well.” Jazz continued to read down the page, Prowl was something the Autobots sorely needed.  His expertise could turn the tide in the war, his tactical upgrade would send the Decepticons flying back to Kaon quickly – or at least Jazz could hope.  There would be time to romance the Praxian after the war, if he survived.

“Has Magnus okayed this?  He is SIC and all,” stated Jazz as handed the personnel file back to the Prime.

“Keep it that is your copy.  Magnus is the one who suggested it – usually everyone would start out as ground troops and work their way up.  Prowl has a unique set of skills and upgrades we did not think that wasting time having him rise through the ranks would beneficial to our end goals.”

“I see,” stated Jazz as he stood to place the personnel file in the locked cabinet. “When does he start?”

“As soon as Ratchet is done with his maintenance exam.”

“I’m sure he’ll enjoy seeing Ratchet again after all this time in medical.”

Jazz nodded as Optimus Prime left his office, the white and Blue mecha stayed in his office a bit to mourn the relationship that could never be – but he desperately wanted.  


End file.
